


small, beautiful moments

by shobogan



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shobogan/pseuds/shobogan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots across time and space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the space between us | Five/Nyssa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change.

Neither of them is particularly tactile. The closest they get, generally, is curling up against each other as they read ancient tomes or scientific breakthroughs in companionable silence.

She’s noticed, though, that the space between them is vanishing. Their hands brush, as they walk through raucous bazaars and silent ruins. (“Did you know these were built when this portion of the continent was under water?” “Yes, Doctor, I read the sign as well.”) They gravitate to the same dingy corners in the cells they’re thrown into. (“I don’t suppose you’ve fixed your screwdriver yet?” “Ah.”) They collapse onto the same bed, after running for days. (“You said they weren’t overly hostile.” “Yes, well, perhaps that was optimistic of me.”)

This is the first time they’ve danced. She’d have balked, once, at something so carelessly intimate, cheerfully frivolous. She’s changed quite a lot, years into a life she never expected.

Theoretically, they’re using clever subterfuge to investigate rumours of grisly improbable deaths. In truth, she’s spending most of her time trying not to step on his toes. At his sixth wince, she sighs with frustrated resignation.

"Tegan only taught me the one, you know." 

"Yes, the _Charleston_ , of all things.” But he’s smiling. “This time period is rather more frantic, I’m afraid. Perhaps - “

The music changes, and his eyes go wide. For just a moment, he looks for all the world like a stunned schoolboy.

But then the smile returns, as if he’s summoned it from within, and he pulls her closer. “This will be easier, I think. It’s almost like a waltz, here - "

He guides her through the steps, and soon she’s matching him - neither leading, just swaying against each other, closer and closer. They should be keeping their ears pricked, their eyes open, but all she can focus on is the warmth of his hands on her waist, and the playful glint in his eyes, and the ridiculous outfit he’s wearing.

"Amazing." She can feel his breath against his ear, always a shade cooler than her own. 

"It’s only a dance, Doctor."

"No. You truly are, you know. More than I ever could have imagined."

She feels her cheek flush, and suddenly they’re parting, and - oh, he knew the music was about to end, the scoundrel. She can’t even call him on it, because the next song is drowned out in screams and gasps.

"My, that’s suspicious, don’t you think?" She can hardly argue, considering the man is growing horns from his back and shrieking about rivers of blood.

"He certainly knows how to ruin the mood." Her tone is mild, wry, and for a moment she revels at the absurdity of herself, taking the horrors of the universe in stride. 

He’s grinning down at her like she’s the most exceptional thing in the room.

"Yes, it’s quite rude. Shall we tell him?"

"Naturally. But Doctor - "

"Hmm?"

"Next time, I’m picking the music."


	2. Makeshift Night | Five + Turlough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmares are only getting worse.

There is no strict rhythm of night and day on the TARDIS. When his companions grew tired they sleep, and when they awake it is morning. The Doctor might rest in the meantime, or make repairs, or read in the library, but he rarely interrupts them. 

He has reason to, tonight, and his stride is resolute as he passes through the dimmed corridor. 

It hasn't been long since Tegan left. They've distracted themselves, of course, with monsters and mysteries and mayhem, but these new memories merely shrouded the older ones. The cold steel of weapons in their hands, the the blood of soldiers staining their skin, Tegan's quiet condemnation, all of it compounding older fears and hurts and mistakes.

Some ghosts, as always, refuse to stay buried. 

He makes no sound as he pulls the door open, nothing to disrupt the ragged, frantic breaths inside. 

He can sense, regardless of distance, when his companions are having particularly intense dreams. He doesn't mention it, generally, doesn't interfere with their private demons. But Turlough’s fear and distress have shrieked at him every night since Frontios, and their battle with the Daleks ruined any chance of them finally fading. Now he twists fretfully, skin shining with sweat as his hands clench the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

The Doctor steps forward, quick and light, until he stands at the side of Turlough’s bed. (Adric's, once, but he banishes the thought; he needs to focus one what he can change.) He kneels down, and - so carefully, brows knit with worry and concentration - he rests his hands on Turlough's temples. 

It's a temptation, of course — to look, to see, to know — but that's a step too far, a true invasion. If Turlough wants to share what haunts him, he will in his own time.

Letting his eyes fall closed, the Doctor soothes the jagged flashes of pain and horror and guilt with tender tranquillity, pushing back the screeching echoes of Turlough’s past. 

His touch lingers after he feels it all fade into calm oblivion, Turlough’s body finally relaxing against the mattress. Softly, he brushes damp hair away from his face, so very young without smug sneers or darting eyes.

The nightmares will return, but for tonight, he can know some measure of peace.


	3. Mother's Day | Five and Tegan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene is set early on in their adventures, the second during _Resurrection of the Daleks_ , and the last during _The Gathering_. Dialogue is taken from both.

The're in Australia, caught up in rural intrigue. It's been a long day of solemn stares and dead ends, but they've managed to scrounge together a decent supper. Nyssa and Adric are setting it up as he goes to fetch Tegan.

She looks distraught, perching stiffly on the little sofa. This is not, in truth, an unusual occurrence; he almost attributes it to the dingy hotel rooms the four of them were sharing, just gets on with telling her it's time to eat. 

But there's something wistful in her expression, something familiar, and goodness knew they could use a bit of that. Familiarity. Camaraderie. Understanding.

As he walks further in he can see her gaze is set on the calendar pinned to the opposite wall, that her fingers are clenched in the skirt of that ridiculous uniform she can't seem to part with. 

"Are you all right?" She starts, even at his soft voice, and shoots him a glare that fades in moments. Habit, perhaps, more than anything else.

"I'm fine," she says tightly. After a moment, he simply nods, and turns towards the door — they can postpone for a bit, wait until she was feeling better. Adric will pout, but Nyssa will understand.

"It's Mother's Day." 

His eyes widen, just slightly, as he looks back to meet hers. She looks so vulnerable, suddenly. So _young_.

"It's Mother's Day and instead of giving my mum flowers I'm trapped in an inn a hundred years before she was born."

"It's hardly a full — " Her look cuts him off. It isn't pointed or cross or anything he's used to; it's almost desperate. For him to listen, to understand. 

He faces her properly, and remains silent as she continues.

"She likes white spider orchids. They're endangered, you know, so I used to make paper ones when I was little. I always put one in her gift, today, tied in the ribbon…" She's staring at her hands, now, balled up in faded violet.

He hesitates, before stepping closer. (Hesitance; yet another difference. He wonders if she knew him well enough to realise.) "Tegan…" Her head snaps up again, and she gave him that defiant look that he could deeply admire, if she didn't use it on _him_ all the time.

He takes a breath, and reached out a hand to lightly, so very lightly, cover hers.

"They're not endangered yet."

 

She doesn't take it with her, when she goes. She's in too much of a hurry to leave all of the worst behind.

"No! No, don't leave, not like this." His voice is desperate, he knows, rawly vulnerable, but he doesn't care. They've come so far, and done so much, and they shouldn't lose it this way.

She doesn't listen, of course. She so rarely listened, always ready to argue or ignore him completely. He misses it already. 

When he passes her room, door ajar, his eyes linger on the vase resting on her nightstand, a precious flower protected from the ravages of Time. A quiet symbol of a daughter's love, alone and forgotten.

 

She won't let him help her. He know he could determine what the cause of the tumour really is, find a healer, keep her safe, but she _won't let him help her_.

"But really. No more aliens."

She says he taught her to appreciate life, and that she's content. They laugh and smile and reminisce and none of it changes the fact that she's dying because of him.

"I don't want to leave you." His voice is achingly solemn, but laughter still dances in her eyes.

"You're not, I'm leaving you! Again!"

When she embraces him he kisses her cheeks, and slips the flower into her hand. 

The next Mother's Day will, he knows, be her last.


	4. Psych Eval | Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ten things you should discuss with a therapist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for an old prompt, and includes copious amount of headcanon.

1\. "Look, this really isn't necessary, I don't want to be President anyway, I did run off for a reason — oh, _do_ put the mind probe away. Can't I simply _say_ I'm not psychologically fit? Does there need to be a long, tedious process? …Of course there does. Well, I'll just make myself comfortable and start at the beginning, shall I?"

2\. "You know very well many parents prefer to Loom their children as toddlers — around seven, actually. Soon after we stare into the Schism, soon after that we're sent off to Academy. I was in Prydon, as I'm sure you alsp know. No, it wasn't very long until I met Koschei, and no, I do not want to talk about it. Missing the point, am I? You're lucky I'm sitting through this at all."

3\. "Now then. I was, in essence, a brilliant slacker — yes, yes, and an infamous prankster. When I left the Academy — oh, yes, I did want to make a difference here, back then. I flouted every unspoken law I could, I fought tooth and nail against xenophobic doctrines, I did everything I could to change the world, and it was all for nothing, can we please move on?"

4\. "…You're asking who influenced me most after I left Gallifrey, is that right? Well, that would be Barbara, of course. I'd become such a bitter, closed old man… Oh, I was still mischievous, still brilliant, but quite worn out. Barbara put me in line more than once, you know, when I was being…well. I could be like that as a boy as well. Back then it was usually Ushas, and often more painful. …Anyway, yes, she's the reason I became who I wanted to be, instead of what Gallifrey turned me into."

5\. "Yes, I did leave Susan behind. I could never control where we went, there was so much danger, and she was so young… Of course I knew how dangerous Earth was then, quite intimately, but at least it was predictable. At least she had something stable. And I knew…I knew Gallifrey would catch up to me eventually. I wouldn't allow them to punish her as well."

6\. "Of course I remember that trial, I remember ever minute. I remember saying goodbye to Jamie and Zoe, knowing they'd forget me completely. Knowing that… I remember being forced into my Third incarnation. Being robbed of my freedom. …No, it wasn't entirely horrible, I became rather fond of UNIT — I said I didn't want to talk about him."

7\. "Finally being able to leave Earth was quite exhilarating, yes, and as my Fourth self … Well, I simply couldn't stay there at all, for very long. …I wouldn't call it _abandonment_ , by that time UNIT was managing quite well, and my companions… Yes. Yes, I did. Sarah's safety meant more to me than anything else, and I _know_ Gallifrey. At the time, it…it simply wasn't feasible."

8\. "How is Leela doing, by the way? You don't know? Of course not. I suppose you wouldn't care. I should visit while I'm here. …Of course I miss her, I miss them all from time to time. …Oh, don't pretend I stole Romana, she came and went of her own free will. …Yes, she did leave me. She's in another universe, being magnificent."

9\. "I regenerated shortly after, yes, and I really don't like the implications you're making. It was time, though, I can say that. Perhaps long past it. …What about my other companion? He missed her too. …Did he leave as well. Oh, isn't that the question."

10\. "This session is over. I can't say I care overmuch if you've gathered enough information. I am going back to my TARDIS, back to my friends, and we are leaving. If anyone attempts to pull me back again I will be very, very cross. Have a good day."


	5. Temper | Five + Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Do you ever lose your temper?_
> 
> Featuring Five and Turlough, plus the original Team TARDIS.

They're in a prison cell, battered and dishevelled. The Doctor is sitting against a cold, rough granite; Turlough is pacing, having just finished an accusatory tirade. 

"Are you done? My ears are ringing." The Doctor's voice is, at worst, mildly annoyed. Turlough stares down at him, sighs, and slumps down besides his only friend. 

"I was hoping for a nice shouting match to distract us from our imprisonment."

"I think we ought to rest, don't you?" 

"Do you _ever_ lose your temper?" Turlough imagines he'll always be a mystery, this man who's unflappable in the face of treachery and assassination. He doesn't really expect an answer.

"Not often. Not any more." A sad, tired smile, and Turlough remember just how old the Doctor is. "I've more control than I used to."

"And why is that?" The smile fades, and just for a moment, the Doctor stares into a very different cage. 

 

They've escaped again, just barely, landing trembling and exhausted on another world.

Tegan started shouting at him the moment they stilled, and she hasn't stopped. 

"You've got your head so far in the clouds you couldn't hear us screaming! Well I've had enough, Doctor. I'm better off on my own."

"Tegan!" She doesn't listen, of course, storming out into a world of Omega knows what. He's half a mind to get a spot of tea and leave her to it. 

"Doctor." Right on cue, thank you Nyssa. She's standing near the door, peering outside with calm concern. Always composed, always dignified, constantly reminding him of what he ought to be. 

He sighs, grasping the console and leaning forward. He may as well confirm their position. "Why must she be so difficult?"

"She's a woman, that's why." Adric, shining his precious star; it had been knocked off when Tegan pushed him aside. 

He's too irritated, too tired, to think before he snaps. "Romana was a woman." That's the crux of the whole tiresome issue, wasn't it? The wound they share and ignore? "I imagine she would be quite disappointed with your attitude." 

Adric flinches, slaps the star back on his chest, and coolly informs them that he'll be in his room before walking stiffly towards the inner doors. The Doctor lets him go, closing his eyes, hands tightening round the console just enough to hurt; him, his ship. One of them deserves it, at least. 

He hears soft, measured footsteps, and straightens, staring at Nyssa with a set jaw.

"Come to chide me, Nyssa? Do make it quick, I need to coax a petulant orphan out of his room before he does something rash, and find an infuriating young woman before she gets herself killed just to spite me." To his surprise, she only shakes her head. 

"I can talk to Adric. You'll be faster on your own." She rests a hand on the console, and the TARDIS welcomes the soft, gentle touch. He relaxes, a little, and nods.

"Yes. Thank you." 

She offers a smile, wryly sympathetic, "They only anger you so easily because you care so much. I'm certain they'll understand eventually."

He wonders, still, if they ever truly did. 

It's difficult, to tear his gaze from the past and meet Turlough's eyes again.

"Life is too short for that sort of thing."


	6. Enigma | Theta and Ushas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theta doesn't make any sense. Ushas finds it irritating.

"So what are you, then?"

"…Excuse me?"

They were in an empty room, the last stragglers of a smattering of amateur chemists. Theta had long decided that quantum chemistry was entirely too simple to be interesting, and was bent over his desk finishing a refined caricature of their professor when Ushas interrupted. She was a few desks over, gathering her notes (probably for personal experiments rather than the class at hand).

"Most of the people in Academy are easily classifiable, even Prydonians."

He raised his eyebrows, setting down his pen (a simple contraption of ink and plastic, nicked as a souvenir on a field trip to Earth). They didn't know each other very well; he acknowledged her as smarter than most of their peers, she seemed to think he was occasionally amusing. He was beginning to think there was mutual intrigue.

Tapping her desk with her own writing utensil - which was really far more advanced than it needed to be - Ushas went on. "There are the politicians - you know the ones, bred for polite manipulation and devious ambition. Playing the part until they're insufferable." He nodded, as he settled down into his seat. He knew the type, of course; they were his favourite types to wind up.

She smirked, just slightly, because she did like commanding attention, and Theta's was often too slick to grasp for long.

"Then, of course, the scientists. The ones who know their field, excel in it, and ignore most everything else — the ones who will do most anything to push it further." Well, he couldn't argue with that, and she rolled her eyes at the glint in his. "Some, of course, are more brilliant than others." His response was a fervent nod, but she simply moved on. He supposed she didn't care for his validation, sincere or otherwise, which was fair enough.

"Then there are the casual geniuses. The clever ones who excel in most everything, and still manage to be - "

"Disruptive?" Theta was smirking again. He knew they were both considering one particular example.

"Yes," she said curtly. Ushas didn't like to be interrupted. Theta liked to interrupt. It was an interesting dynamic. "And then there are the stragglers - they get by, but they're nothing special. They'll probably fail the first year if they're not diligent enough."

He leaned back in his chair. "That would be me, then."

"No." The word was sharp with frustration, and he couldn't entirely hide his surprise. 

She'd stopped tapping. "You're smart. Most people don't notice - they're not looking, really, they never learned that bit. I've snuck a look at some of your test scores, you get just high enough to pass, every time I've seen them." 

That idle, cheerful interest had faded from his features; he was studying her, now, with keener eyes than any professor had seen.

"They think you don't care, but I've seen you argue with Koschei, I've heard you rant on and on about this law or that." He'd ask how, but Ushas seemed rather good at not being seen, and she was on a tangent now anyway.

"You act apathetic, indolent, but you're too perceptive for you own good, and you work all night on whatever's caught your interest."

"How do you know what I do all night?" A disdainful stare silenced that line of questioning.

"You're no politician."

"Thank you!"

"You're not a scientist, you don't excel in anything people actually want you to."

"Right you are."

An exasperated frown curled her lips. He wasn't giving her what she wanted, which she really should have expected. It was a speciality. 

"The problem is you're cunning and intelligent enough to be both, so why aren't you?"

A faint smile curved his lips, and he slowly shook his head. "What sort of surprise would I be then?" Her brow furrowed, and she only stared at him as he gathered his things, slipping them into his bag. He didn't speak again until he was halfway out the door.

"I'm something Gallifrey isn't used to, Ushas." A swift, roguish grin lit his features as he glanced back.

"I'm the wrench in the machine."


End file.
